


Because She Feels Like It

by printfogey



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Minor Character(s), Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/pseuds/printfogey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does Dr Kureha do with all that money she makes? And who might she have encountered in her long life? A holiday-themed fic full of speculation, featuring various non-Strawhat characters plus Chopper (and Vivi).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because She Feels Like It

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in December 2009 in the answer to a prompt wanting to see more about the older people in One Piece. Back then, the Marineford arc was in full swing, and the readers didn't really know where Thousand Sunny was: still back at Sabaody, or maybe taken somewhere else by now? I went with the latter, as you'll see in one of the sections here. I also chose to put the timing of the Marineford war around Christmas.  
> (Of course there's no real reason the One Piece world would have a holiday called "Christmas": here, it's just the English 'translation' of a winter holiday which shares some traditions with us./handwaves)
> 
> Note: Not only is this story rife with unfounded background speculation, but it’s practically the very reason it exists in the first place. Invents name for a background canon character, a kinship theory for two other characters; and several OCs for the purpose of conversations and a delivery system.  
> Concrit is, as ever, much appreciated. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and situations of One Piece were created and are owned by Eiichiro Oda. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fanfic is not intended for profit and must not be used in that way.

Part 1.  
Place: Drum Kingdom.  
Time: two years ago

It had been a clear, crisp day, and the air still felt so in the deepening twilight, as Kureha and Chopper returned to her hidden cottage through the wintry forest. Kureha was walking alongside the sled instead of riding in it, as a sack heavy with coins took up most of the room. She was carrying a bottle of plum wine in one hand, now and then drinking from it. 

Pulling the sled in his reindeer form, Chopper was going slowly to match her languid pace – both of them had hurried enough when they went the other way, anyway. The reindeer looked thoughtful, as he often did – Kureha had a feeling he’d start up asking questions, soon. 

“Doctorine,” Chopper eventually began, sure enough. “Why did you have to take so much of that man’s money? He got so sad…”

Kureha sighed, then reminded herself that at least this was better than the times in the beginning, when Chopper had seemed scared to say even two words to her.

“Don’t tell me you fell for Gray Albert’s crocodile tears,” she said disapprovingly. “That boy’s got plenty of things hidden away, he’s just way too miserly to admit to it. Don’t worry, he’s not going to starve. “

“Oh. O-okay,” said Chopper, pacing on in the merely foot-deep snow. “But… Doctorine?”

“…Yes, Chopper?” said Kureha in what she felt was a reasonably patient tone, glancing at her apprentice who was pulling the sled beside her. He had a rather unhappy look on his face.

“It’s just that…” he started slowly, then burst out, “why do you _always_ have to ask for so much from the patients? They can’t help being sick! …Or, well… not always, at least! It’s one thing if they were all rich, but some of them are so poor! The king’s taxes are pretty hard, aren’t they?”

Kureha chuckled. “My, my. Aren’t you the soft-hearted one when it comes to these narrow-minded fools? Even though they keep calling you a monster when they see you in your other forms? I thought you hated humans, boy.”

“I do!” said Chopper, head flying up in protest. “ I’m not soft-hearted, I just…” His voice sank as he mumbled, “…it’s different when they’re patients. Everyone should get the chance to get well.”

“People don’t value what they don’t have to pay for, Chopper,” said Kureha sharply. “And good medicine usually doesn’t come cheaply, either. Don’t forget that. Really, even if Hiruluk had had real doctor skills to start with, I doubt he could have been much more than a quack anyway, as long as he insisted on working for free.” She knew Chopper would find that harsh, but it was the truth as far as she was concerned. “Most ingredients can’t grow on winter islands, you know that by now! They have to be bought from merchant ships. And many of those are in no hurry coming here these days – Wapol’s customs make trade with us nearly impossible.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Chopper in a small voice. “So they raise the prices? And that’s where all your money is going?”

Kureha grinned toothily. “Heh. Well, I didn’t say that’s where all of it is going. I’m keeping some for a rainy day. Nothing wrong with that. If I didn’t, can you just picture what the bozos around here would think?”

“What?” Chopper blinked in incomprehension. “But- ! If you didn’t charge so much, they’d all like you a lot more! They’d stop talking about you like some evil mean witch from the forest! And they’d stand up for you when Wapol’s men try to drive you away!”

“You think so?” She raised an eyebrow. “And are you so sure you’d want that to happen? They’d end up in a dungeon like poor Dalton, or worse. No. I’ll tell you what. They’d start to think I could solve pretty much all their problems for them, every little hurt that’s better left alone. And it’s not like I can’t handle Wapol’s men, long as their stupid pride keep the strongest of them from ganging up on a single lady.”

“Yeah- you’re strong, Doctorine, I know that! But it still doesn’t…” Chopper huffed out a big cloud of warm air from his nostrils, looking unhappy. 

“Tch.” Kureha started to lengthen her steps, swinging her bottle of scotch in one hand. “In my prime I guess I could have knocked Wapol clear off this island, and never mind his silly Devil Fruit powers. But then what?” She looked at Chopper over her shoulders. “Think _that_ would take care of things, do you? Doctors aren’t meant to be rulers. People would just be confused. Until everyone has finally had enough and get it into their heads to truly change things, there’s no point in trying to butt in. Far safer to be the witch.”

They tramped in silence for a while in the blue twilight shades of the snow. This part of the path went steep uphill for a while. Kureha might have helped with the load on this point – if nothing else, they’d go faster that way – if she didn’t already know Chopper was proud of his growing strength, and wanted to prove himself.

Far away under the trees something white flashed up, gave a small squawk as if wanting to move forward, then froze and backed off. Probably a Lapahn, she figured. They knew better than to trouble her.

“Doctorine…” he said finally in a soft, hesitant voice once the ground was more level. “There’s that one ship that always comes around to the harbour in November, and we go down there and get medicine from it. The ship’s red and gold…”

“Cobbler Marten’s ship? Yep. He gets pretty good stuff, though his prices are awful. Always were, too, so can’t blame Wapol for that. So?” Her tone didn’t invite any more conversation. Chopper caught on enough to keep quiet for the next few sloughs. 

But the kid could be a lot more stubborn than you might think, considering how shy he was. He soon spoke again, “Um. The sled always seems a lot heavier when we go there than to any other ship, any other time.”

“Yep. That’s because his prices are much too high, like I said,” said Kureha sharply.

“Um. But - but it’s not just money. You always give him an extra bag of something, too.”

“Ah. So you’ve seen that, eh?” Kureha smiled slyly. “Well… that’s a secret. Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Or maybe not. Now, enough about that.” She used her best no-nonsense voice, and this time Chopper actually seemed to listen.

She bet he hadn’t given up when it came to the money issue, though. The kid really did seem to carry around this idealized view of what a perfect doctor should be, able to heal everyone and do a great job of it but without charging even one belli. And presumably living on air with medicines and tools that just magically appeared when needed... or possibly having never-ending possessions of gold to pay for it all, never mind where _that_ would come from. That fool Hiruluk.

Still, it might be a good idea to tell Chopper a little more about Cobbler Marten one day. She could mention that while he was a fairly well-known merchant with a decent-sized trade going on in this part of the Grand Line, he was most famous for the unique line of birds his family had been breeding for a long time now. 

Those birds were big and robust, with big beaks almost like those of pelicans and wingspans approaching those of albatrosses. They were able to fly over great expanses of water, sleeping in the air or while sitting on the waves like ducks. Their homing instincts were incredible, they had an uncanny way of understanding spoken instructions; they could even be trained to recognise distinctive landmarks and pirate flags from pictures – and they were strong enough to carry parcels on their backs. 

Of course, right now that knowledge wouldn’t be useful to Chopper at all – there was no-one he knew that lived over the seas, no-one he could get in touch with through a Cobblerbird. But Kureha had a feeling that would change, one day.

They reached the cottage. Chopper shifted into his smaller form to shrug out of his harness and started to unload the sled. Kureha waited for one moment, looking up at the stars. She took one more drink from the bottle, smiling wryly. 

On the other hand, maybe she _wouldn’t_ tell him. Maybe she’d let it be a surprise.

*****

Part 2.

(Place: Sakura Kingdom )

The Sakura Kingdom, as it was now called, was still in poor shape after Wapol’s hard and wasteful reign and the pirate devastation earlier this year. But as nearby traders learned that the new king Dalton was lifting restrictions on trade, reducing customs, building ships and allowing all the kingdom’s citizens free movement to and from the island as they chose, trade had already picked up a lot. Wood, fur, tools and handicrafts (including some new pink ornaments in the shape of petals that puzzled the merchants) went out from the kingdom again, while salt and fruit and machinery and many other useful things went in.

Cobbler Marten arrived earlier than usual this year, surprised to find the people of Sakura so happy to see him. But though no doctor was outlawed anymore – indeed, Dalton had been actively asking for skilled men of medicine to return to the island, wanting to set up a school to keep the old tradition alive – he found his old client Dr Kureha remained quite secretive and circumspect in her dealings. She made it clear that she still didn’t want anyone to know about the batch of parcels she made him send out every year. 

It was odd, but she paid well for it so he didn’t press the issue. This time, he made sure to send out the bird with the longest to fly as early as late October. This recipient was also the most famous one, and even though he was a pirate, it might look good for Marten if the bird got there in time for Christmas.

*

(Place: Somewhere in the new world  
Time: A week or so before Christmas)

It was a beautiful day, the air high and clear and just a little cool on this summer island. Ben was looking over the state of supplies, making mental notes of what the ships needed. Nothing had been said about leaving yet, but he had this itching feeling in the back of his neck that told him Shanks was going to make his move soon.

“Hey... First Mate?” 

Ben turned around to see Rockstar standing there with a bemused expression and an exhausted-looking big gray-white bird lying slumped on his shoulder. One of Rockstar’s fingers was stuck in the bird’s beak.

“I was down by the beach just now when this thing came flapping down from over the sea and just landed on me,” said Rockstar. “Got some kind of parcel tied to its back, but it wouldn’t let me look at it.” 

“Of course it wouldn’t, it doesn’t know who you are,” said Beckman, smiling just a bit as he walked over and scratched the bird on its head. He recognised this one well enough - it had started coming here five years ago, replacing the older bird which had retired. “Hey hey hey, boy, let go of his finger, huh?” he said, coaxing Rockstar’s finger out of the Cobblerbird’s mouth. “He’s one of us, just a rookie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the captain so you can give him the parcel, as usual.” 

“Sheesh,” said Rockstar as his finger was freed and Ben lifted the bird away from him. “What the hell is that thing, anyway? Looks like a cross between an oversized pelican and an albatross.”

“Maybe that’s what it is,” said Ben, shrugging as he shifted the bird around and patted it on its back: it gave a contented gurgle and then promptly fell asleep. “I don’t know how they were bred in the first place, but they’re called Cobblerbirds. Best damn couriers on the Grand Line, at least overseas. And every year around Christmas we get one.” He started to walk towards HQ, Rockstar in tow.

“Huh. So who’s sending them? Or is that some kind of secret?” 

“Just some old lady Shanks met years ago when he was just a kid,” said Ben. “Some kind of doctor, apparently. Always sends the same things too.” He knocked at the parcel still tied to the Cobblerbird’s back. 

“Medicine?” Rockstar hazarded.

“Bingo. That’s mostly for the shipdoctor, though: it’s always some kind she hasn’t sent before, with a note on what it does. He’ll send her some medicine of his own later, so it goes back and forth like that. Captain gets a gold coin and a small bottle of really good whisky. And some note, you know, just asking him what he’s been up to and stuff. No big secrets.”

“I guess it couldn’t be,” said Rockstar. He glanced at the bird, holding his finger cautiously. “It’s pretty feisty, I guess, but it seems like Marines or enemy pirates could catch it and read the letters pretty easily.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Not that I think the boss seems to care about that kind of thing much.”

Ben grinned, patting Rockstar on his back. “You got it. He will care about the booze being in good shape, though, you can bet. Anyway, the parcels always come here in the end, and if it’s ever been opened on the way someone’s been _really_ sneaky about it.” 

“Still… ain’t that a lot of trouble to go through just to deliver something simple like that?” mused Rockstar. “I mean, hiring those birds must be damn expensive.”

“Old people have their whims, you know,” said Ben, shrugging; then stumbled as the bird wrenched itself from his arms with a joyful shriek. It shot forward towards Shanks, who was lying in a hammock under the biggest palm tree around.

\---

“Good timing this year,” remarked Shanks a few minutes later, looking at the bottle of whisky pensively.

He’d gotten up from the hammock and was now sitting with his back to the big palm tree. Rockstar had already left with the Cobblerbird to get it something to eat.

Ben sat down in the shade as well, stretching his legs out. “Yeah. I noticed we’re running low on whisky.”

Shanks grinned. “Right. And the lady’s got great taste, to boot.” He let out a melodramatic sigh. “Let me tell you, Ben,if only she wasn’t so damn set in her landlubber ways, I’d marry that woman in a heartbeat.”

“Of course.” Ben nodded firmly. “You should anyway. What’s a little 100-year age difference?”

Shanks handed him the bottle after taking a long, slow drink. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

Ben drank in silence, then handed it back. They sat quietly for a while, listening to the cries of the cockatoos in nearby trees.

“That’s not what you meant with ‘good timing’”, said Ben finally. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” said Shanks.

“You probably meant it’s much harder for the bird to find us if we’re out at sea,” said Ben. “Right?” He turned to look at his captain.

Shanks only nodded.  
“So,” said Ben, lighting up a cigarette. “When do we move?”

“Day after tomorrow,” said Shanks quietly. “Haven’t got full confirmation yet on what Kaido’s been up to… but I get this itchy feeling in the back of my neck that we’re meant to be sailing.”

“Trust the itchy feeling, then,” said Ben. “I gave our supplies and the ship a good lookover today. They’re in good shape.”

“Heh,” said Shanks. “Shoulda figured you’d be ahead of me already.”

Ben ignored this and went on, “We can get ready in five, four hours here. Longer to alert everyone who’s not in main camp, though.”

“Good,” said Shanks simply, nodding again.

They finished up the bottle together, not saying much.

 

***

( Twin Capes, by Reverse Mountain  
Around Christmas. Same time for all remaining scenes)

Snow was falling down slowly in big, heavy flakes when Crocus emerged from his daily round in Laboon's stomach. The sky had turned a grey-green colour, and right in front of him on the whale's back stood a shivering bird, giving him a reproachful look. Its eyes were tinged with red and when it opened its mouth to squawk it only sneezed instead.

"Welcome back," said Crocus matter-of-factly. "And merry Christmas. Don't look at me like that, it's not like I knew you were coming. I don't think you'd like it down there anyway." He closed the lid to the entrance opening in Laboon's back, then asked the whale to swim as close to the shore as he could. 

**"bwoooh"** , said Laboon in a rather low rumbling, for him. He sounded rather sleepy.

Once inside the cottage, Crocus got a fire going and tossed a new-caught herring to the Cobblerbird, who caught it expertly and perched on Crocus’ best chair, next to the fireside. 

He was pleased to find, besides the customary bottle of fine brandy, a big flask containing a milky liquid that apparently was good for stomach muscle cramp, which he’d mentioned was a trouble in last year’s missive. Of course, no guarantee it would work on a whale – as with everything else Kureha sent him, it had only been used on humans. On the other hand, most of the things he sent back had only been used on a whale, and she still applied them on people, over there on her island. It had all worked out fine so far.

Even better, this year the medicine might actually help making Laboon _better_ , instead of just slowing down his getting worse. Crocus would have to mention that in his return letter: it made a difference to what kind of medicine to ask for. Less headache pills, for one thing.

He read her letter by the light of the fire next. “Oho,” he mumbled. “Looks like things are looking up over on that end to.” He glanced at the Cobblerbird and folded the letter, then gazed out the window at the great shape of his friend, now asleep. “Hm. Not much in the letter, but then she isn’t the chatty type, is she? But why do I get the feeling that _her_ good news and _our_ good news have something to do with each other?” he said pensively, a small smile on his face. “Eh, Laboon?”

 

*

(Albana, Alabasta)

Vivi was sitting in the palace garden going through reports of the latest harvests, when a drowsy Karoo next to her suddenly became alert and intent, looking upwards. Puzzled, Vivi followed his gaze and a few seconds later saw a large bird flying in over the palace walls. It landed in the middle of the garden, turned around, spotted them and gave one squawk. Karoo quacked back in a friendly manner, then both he and Vivi got up and walked over to the tired traveller.

The past two years of her life, spent away from her home, had gotten in the way of Vivi's memory at first, but now she fully recalled this bit of Christmas ritual.

"Here you go," she told the Cobblerbird as she poured water into a bowl for it. "Have some drink, then I'll take you to where the Court Physician is. He'll be glad to see you, I’m sure."

The Cobblerbird drank avidly and then looked up at her and nodded. He flapped his wings and leaped up to seat himself on Karoo’s back. The bigger bird snorted a bit, but didn’t try to toss the courier off.

Court Physician Aliandrin's face, old and wrinkled though it was, did lit up considerably when he answered the door and saw the bird, now in Vivi's arms. He waved them all inside quickly – wanting to avoid onlookers, Vivi guessed. It was true that Dad, Chaka and Igaram all tended to tease Aliandrin about his mysterious "~lady friend~" who kept sending him these yearly gifts. Dad particularly would nudge him and badger him for more details, because all they really knew about the sender was that she was a doctor, and she wasn't young.

But the Physician would always draw himself up and become extremely dignified and tight-lipped. "I will not discuss a lady in this manner," he said primly, "especially not one so dedicated to the medical profession. Such talk is demeaning, Your Majesty." He sticked to that and said nothing more, no matter how much Dad would sulk. 

Only Vivi had been allowed to learn a few more things, like the usual content of the parcel, that there was a letter as well (but never what was in it); and that the sender’s favourite sweets were Alabastan licorice. Aliandrin would always include a small box of that when he sent his own parcel back to her.

Aliandrin opened the parcel and took out a bottle of wine, a gold coin (which he tried handing over to Vivi, but she refused), and a small box which evidently had medicine of some kind. He opened the lid, sniffed the content, then put it to the side carefully. "Interesting," he mumbled. 

"So... you'll write her back then, still?" said Vivi, because you never knew what could have changed in two years. She was still learning not to take anything for granted.

"Of course," said the Physician, stroking his beard and adjusting his glasses in a pose that made Vivi want to tease him too, though she managed not to. "And I daresay I'll have more good things to tell her this year than usual," he added.

Vivi smiled. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"Yes," said Aliandrin distantly, "I do think she'll take quite the interest in our recent advances with producing a new kind of cough medicine." Then he grinned at the look on Vivi's face, gave her a piece of licorice and gently pushed them outside.

Tch, old people and their secrets. Vivi sighed. Well, one day she'd learn more. She went off to the kitchen to get the Cobblerbird something to eat, silently wondering if Aliandrin would mention anything about meeting a young, but brilliant reindeer doctor this year. The mysterious lady would be quite impressed to meet Tony, Vivi was sure.

There was something tight and hard in her chest again –old absence, tinted with more recent worry about the upcoming war; and Luffy’s brother. But the winter sun was shining gently, the water cisterns were in decent shape, everyone seemed cheerful about the holiday, and an exhausted bird was depending on her. There was no time to mope.

*

(Water 7)

Iceburg raised a quizzical eyebrow when Kokoro swept into Gustavo’s bar (letting in a gust of wind and plenty of whirling snow that made customers near the door complain) and sat down next to him without ordering anything immediately. Light dawned when she pulled out a small bottle from her pocket with an expensive but familiar label.

"My, the Christmas fairy came in early this year, then?" he mumbled.

"Yup!" said Kokoro. "But last year it was a week late, so it all evens out. Thought the letter sounded more cheerful than usual this year, too." She unscrewed the cap slowly, then took a long, reverent drink from it before wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "Aaah, good stuff. Medicine's looking pretty good this year, too," she added. "Some liniment for my joints. Too bad I'll have to go talk to some doctor and give half of it, just so he'll give me something else to send back. Weird set-up in the first place if you ask me."

She nudged Iceburg with her elbow, "Maybe you can take care of that, huh? Bet they wouldn't be so fussy and stuck-up around the mayor!"

"My," said Iceburg coolly, after he'd taken another drink of beer, "you just say so because they tell you to cut down on your drinking. You should listen to them, old woman."

She bopped him lightly on the head. "How many times do I have to tell you that my people have much stronger constitutions than humans? You'd think doctors at least would realise this. But nooo."

Gustavo, proprietor and barkeep, who'd bought the bar after Blueno's departure, was looking quite confused by their conversation. He was a native of Water 7 and seemed to know Kokoro fairly well - he was a good friend of her son's, apparently - and in any case would value a steady customer enough not to fuss if they brought their own drink once in a blue moon. But clearly he didn't know about the Yuletide parcels.

Blueno had heard all about it in his time, of course. And he would have reported it to his true employers, Iceburg realised. My. He scratched his head. That was an unsettling thought. Well, hopefully no-one higher-up in the World Government had paid much attention to that… it was true that the boss of CP 9 didn’t seem like a very perceptive person.

Anyway, nothing he could do about that now. He drank deeply from his beer and looked out of the windows, where snow was falling steadily on the city.

"What's all this about a Christmas fairy, Mrs Kokoro?" asked Gustavo now, while making a rom teddy for a couple in the back of the room. 

Kokoro grinned even wider than usual, tipping her bottle in the barkeep’s direction. "It's just this old lady who sends me stuff every Christmas. Always the same things, but I ain't complaining.” She went on to tell him about the bottle of prime whisky, the gold coin, and the bottle (or sometimes box) of medicine and that she was supposed to send something else back for that. 

"I never even met her, either," Kokoro went on, her demeanour more serious. "It's just... some kinda eccentric deal with her, I guess. Maybe Tom knew more about the whys of it, even if he never said so." She slumped, head in chin. "Yeah, it used to be Tom who got the gifts, way back when," she explained to Gustavo. "But she switched to me when those bastards took him away from us." Old anger and grief contorted her face momentarily – or contorted it more than age and wine had already done, anyway - and she glared into the bar disk. Iceburg gazed into his glass, not saying anything.

He could remember looking up from work during cold December and January days, waiting to see that odd-looking bird approaching in its search for Master Tom. Franky had declared they should have a contest as to who would spot the bird first; Iceburg had frowned and called it a stupid idea, but had been drawn into it even so. 

"Actually," mused Kokoro now, straightening up and looking easier again, "I'm not sure if Tom ever met her, either. Both of us did meet her daughter, though."

"Oh?" said Iceburg. "My, you never said that before."

"Nga ga ga ga!" she laughed. "No reason to! Anyway, 's all long ago now."

"Huh." Iceburg leaned his head into his palm and looked at her from the side. "Not surprising to me she doesn't know you, that lady," he commented, "or she'd know better than to send you booze of all things."

"Ah, sharrup, you," muttered Kokoro, "I told you a million times my constitution's good for it."

He reached out and grabbed the bottle. "On the other hand, if you let me finish this, I'll talk to my doctor about the medicine," he said. After all, it _was_ very good whisky.

To her credit, Kokoro only looked a bit dismayed. "Rather give you the gold coin, boy," she muttered, but then said philosophically, "Ah, what th' hell, it's Christmas."

 

***

There were more parcels going out, travelling on the sturdy backs of the Cobblerbirds in all directions on the first half on the Grand Line. They were fewer now than they had once been, as some of the original recipients passed away without any heirs around to keep up the tradition. One might think at least one or two of them might break the connection voluntarily as well, by not sending any letter and medicine back, but so far that hadn’t happened.

In his mind's eye, Cobbler Marten pictured an invisible web centred on Dru- on Sakura Kingdom, made up by steady year-to-year processions of wing strokes. He and his birds maintained some other networks for clients, some considerably bigger; but the Kureha web was still the oldest.

In January, February and March, the birds returned, one by one, usually but not always carrying lighter burdens than they had when they left. Almost all of them convened on their home on Marten's main ship, which they had an uncanny way to find no matter where it might be. He then gathered up the return parcels, putting them safely away in a special bag which he handed to Dr. Kureha in April, for a reasonable fee. Marten never opened even one of them. He generally tried to be honest with his clients, and when rough life on the sea sometimes made that difficult, he still made exceptions for that mean, hard-bitten old witch without whom his wife and daughter would be dead.

Only one of the birds flew back directly to Dr Kureha's home, not going through Marten. She paid an additional charge for it every year – she never haggled about it, as she did with the rest, nor offered any comment. Marten was clever enough to keep his own mouth shut as well. 

Or so it had been until now, anyway. But this year, assuming all went well, two of them would fly directly to the Doctorine when they returned.

 

***

(Wherever the Thousand Sunny is right now)

Rayleigh was dozing in a beach chair by the helm of the lion-headed ship when he heard the flapping of wings. He looked up to see first one, then two familiar-looking birds land on the railing right next to him. Right, it was the season for it. He’d forgotten.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” he mumbled, then suddenly jerked fully awake. “Hey, why are there two of you _now_?! I’m alone out here – don’t tell me something’s happened to – hey, where are _you_ going?” 

One of the birds left the railing and swooped up to the main sail of the ship, tugging at the Strawhats' version of the Jolly Roger – continued up to the nearest of the two flags, where it did the same. Rayleigh frowned, peering up at it, but the other bird was squawking at him now, hopping forward and flapping its wings, clearly wanting to be relieved of its burden.

“Yeah, yeah, one moment,” said Rayleigh, first checking the vivrecard he carried in a hidden pocket and breathing with embarrassed relief to see it was intact. It was a stupid thought to begin with, he told himself, as he squatted down to untie the small parcel on the Cobblerbird’s back. Most likely the other bird was here for one of the Strawhats. He didn’t think he’d seen that bird before, either. 

The new bird emitted an accusatory squawk as it flew back to the helm, glaring at Rayleigh as if he were the one who’d vanished the rookie pirate crew away from there.

“Look, I don’t know where they are,” Rayleigh said to the new one, straightening up and putting his parcel aside. “But I’m pretty sure they’re coming back here, first. I’m their meet-up point, see.” Which meant that right now, he had better stay alive if he wanted to keep helping those spring lambs, he mused. It felt rather odd, having a reason like that to hang on. 

“Anyway,” he said over his shoulder as he started to walk down the steps, “I’m going down to check the fish tank to see what I can get you two. New guy, it’s up to you to trust me with the gift or not. I don’t really care if you want to keep flying around to look for the right one uselessly.” In his experience, animals often understood a lot more than people thought, and Cobblerbirds were quite bright. 

He picked out four big haddocks from the fish tank and brought them up to the birds, veteran and newbie, where they were quickly devoured. After that, the new bird walked up to Rayleigh and butted its head on his leg, apparently deciding he was trustworthy after all. Rayleigh untied that parcel too, then read the name on it.  
Hm, ’Tonytony Chopper’ – that was the kid with the antlers who’d patched up Hachi so well, wasn’t it? Rayleigh’s memory wasn’t all that good with new names anymore, but he rather thought so. Shakky had said something about a laughably small bounty, too... well, it only made sense that Kureha would know the shipdoctor, if they’d passed by her island. 

He walked down with Chopper’s parcel to the boys’ cabin, where it would be safe even if he’d be forced to take the whole ship underwater. Then he returned to the helm, checked his log pose, adjusted the course – boy, this ship was easy to steer! – and returned to the beach chair for a light nap before supper. His guests, heads tucked under their wings, were already fast asleep.

 

**

(Sabaõdy Archipelago)

 

The Archipelago, not being a ‘real’ island and lacking its own magnetic field, didn’t have much steadier weather than the surrounding sea. Yesterday it had been hot and muggy: today was clear and crisp with a pale wintry colour to the sky, and frost crackled under Shakky’s feet as she walked back up to the bar from the fishmonger’s.

“You’re making fish again today, Miss Shakuyaku?” 

Shakky raised an eyebrow at the bedraggled figure standing outside the entrance and keeping one hand on its shoulder. 

“Not really, it’s not for me,” she said. “What are you doing here, Phil? You know very well the bar’s not open yet.”

Philippos Luke, one-time pirate and now an artisan in Grove 18, gave a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know. Didn’t mean to be a bother. It was just, well, in this happy sunlit weather I felt like getting my feet some exercise and before I knew it I’d happened to wander up here, and... well, I guess I was admiring the view and then I thought, hum, I haven’t seen Miss Shakky for a while, if she shows up I could chat some with her and hear what she’s been up to...” His babbling sank down under her dry look. 

“You’ve been in a fight,” she said, nodding at the shoulder. 

“Uh. Yeah,” he admitted with a bow of his head. “That bastard Carston...”

“I thought you two were good friends,” she remarked, handing over the fish for him to hold while she took out the key.

“Normally, maybe,” he grumbled. “But everyone’s on edge lately because of the war that’s gonna happen... It’s ridiculous, it’s getting to the point you can’t even say hello without someone wanting to punch you for it.”

“Or in other words, you’re not very fond of Whitebeard so you’re betting against him, but Carston is,” she translated as she unlocked and unbolted the door. “Anyway, why come here? I’m not a doctor.”

“I know, but you’ve got bandages and stuff, don’t you?” he burst out, cautiously following her inside while still holding the fish. “And I guess I thought I could clean the wound here and it would be all right. Besides, I really was pretty close by,” he added.

Shakky frowned. “Hm. I could clean it for you, you know – I can do _that_ much - but only if you go to the hospital directly from here. It’s not far from your grove in any case,” she added.

“Fine. I promise, Miss Shakky,” said Philippos Luke with a sigh. 

“Good. Now, put the fish on the disk so I can wash it,” she ordered, then led him to the sink.

There wasn’t all that much blood in his wound – it was a drunken knife cut from an angry drunk who hadn’t been thinking clearly and probably had half expected Phil to dodge it. As she cleaned it out, Phil winced and muttered grisly details on what he’d do to Carston in return when he saw him next. Shakky offered no comment. Everyone had the right to twine their own hanging rope, she figured. Besides, the odds were just as likely for them making up on the spot, too.

“All right,” she said after tying the shoulder up with clean bandages. “I’ve done my best. But you do need professional help. I really wouldn’t know if the muscles going to heal correctly or if the bones are even in the right place. It’s no use trying to heal people when you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I already said I’ll do it,” said Phil grumpily. “It feels better already, though.”

“Liar,” she said, turning around and lighting a cigarette.

“Hm. So, who’s the fish for?” he asked. “Mr Rayleigh coming back?”

She shook her head, then smiled as she turned back and blew out a smoke ring. “Oh... just for someone,” she said. “Not even sure he’ll turn up today, but I have a feeling he will. Best part is, he likes to eat them raw.”

“Oh,” said Phil, sounding rather puzzled. He moved towards the door, but then stopped as he reached the threshold.

“You know, Miss Shakky... remember when I first came around these parts, sailing on Captain Xiang’s ship nearly twenty years ago?”

“Yes?” said Shakky easily, glancing at the contents of the liquor cabinet. It looked okay for tonight, but she really did need to stock up more tomorrow.

“You looked just like you do now even then, you know. And I’m not saying this to be polite.” He sighed. “I know you hate people prying about this, so – so I won’t ask how old you are again, but – what’s your secret, Miss Shakky? Are you some kind of witch?”

“I'm 'remembering my happy',” she said with a wry smile. “You should do that too, Phil, it will help you get better faster.” She shooed him out lightly.

“Huh?” He stumbled out, half turned back to her. “Remember my... happy?”

“Yup.” She took another drag on the cigarette. “Then again, maybe I _am_ a witch. You could say it runs in the family.”

“Um. Uh...” 

“Anyway, merry Christmas, Phil.” She turned away and walked in again, waving her cigarette to him. “Now, go to the hospital.”

She closed the door but opened a window to air out the place, looking out at the clear, bright wintry sunshine and how different it made the trees and the groves look than in warmer weather, so tall, strict and ramrod in the afternoon light, the bubbles a lot smaller than normal. She’d lit a big fire tonight. 

She shadowed her eyes, squinting in the sunlight, then shook her head at herself – it was far too soon to say if the small speck of black far away might be the silhouette of a Cobblerbird. It didn’t matter, anyway. She’d know when it got here.

Now she had to put the place in order for the night. She turned away from the window and rolled up her sleeves.


End file.
